


Gold, Plaited

by APgeeksout



Category: NXT, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Hair-styling/grooming, M/M, Pining, Treat on Fic Mountain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4001314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It'd started as a joke.  Or at least, he was pretty sure it must be a joke for Murphy.  He wasn't so sure about himself anymore.  Hadn't been sure of himself for a little while yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold, Plaited

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts).



It'd started as a joke. Or at least, he was pretty sure it must be a joke for Murphy. He wasn't so sure about himself anymore. Hadn't been sure of himself for a little while yet. 

They'd been at the Performance Center, him and Buddy stretching out to cool down a little after their leg day routine and watching Amore and Cassady across the expanse of the training room. 

Doing reconnaissance. Wesley being, maybe, just a little jealous of how easily Amore leaned his wiry, leopard-spotted frame into his partner's, even though they hadn't won anything. 

So far as he could tell, they hadn't done a damn thing at all today but shoot the breeze with Zayn, but still, there they were, laughing, with Cassady's big hand landing easily, absently, on his partner's neck, pushing aside the weird little tail of his hair. 

"Think Carmella's the one who does their hair?" he asked, watching as she held up a hand and stalked away from the Realest Geeks in the Room, Amore gesticulating in her wake.

"Probably," Murphy said, spreading himself out on the mat and following her course back toward the women's locker room by tilting his head at an angle that made Blake notice more than he probably ought to about the line of his partner's throat, the place along the underside of his jaw where wiry beard transitioned back into soft skin. At least, it looked soft, smooth. He'd been known to gamble, sometimes, and he'd've been willing to bet that Buddy's neck would be soft to the touch, skin hot and pulse rapid under his lips. 

"I'm thinking we don't need her, after all, though," Murphy continued and turned back toward him; Wesley was pretty sure he'd managed to look away before Buddy caught him mapping the hollow at the base of his throat with his eyes, but it was a damn close call. 

"No?"

"Nah." Buddy grinned and turned onto his side, reaching over to thread fingers into his hair and give it a friendly little tug. "Reckon I can make you look almost as goofy as Amore all on my own."

"Reckon you could," he agreed quietly, keeping still to keep from dislodging the hand on him. 

 

And that was how the next match found him with the high, tight ponytail swishing around his face with every move. The crowd loved it - or hated it. Either way they made a lot of noise for them. Even more when he grabbed the pin, Murphy barreling into the ring to drape his Title over his shoulder and bull him into a hug, laughing out a victory cry loud and warm against his neck, taped fingers winding into the fallen-loose pieces of his hair. 

 

"Guess we can't let the people get too used to anything," he said, sinking onto the chair Murphy steered him toward. 

"Too right," Buddy said, stepping up behind him and smiling into the dressing room mirror. "Want to be something new every night." 

He closed his eyes as the brush worked through his hair in steady, smooth strokes, blinked them open when he felt the comb, drawing a sharp part down the middle of his scalp. He watched their reflection, and tried not to sink under the weight of the careful concentration on Buddy's face as he gathered and smoothed one half of his hair. Apparently satisfied, he collected it into an elastic he'd held between his lips while he worked. 

Wesley wanted to be too cool to have that thought put a little jolt into him, but he wasn't. He really wasn't even a little bit cool where his partner was concerned, though maybe he didn't wear it as nakedly as he thought, since Murphy's expression didn't change, even when their eyes met in the mirror. 

"What d'you think?" he asked. His fingers teased at the curling ends of the pigtails now framing Wesley's face, and made it hard to find a good answer. 

"Think we're gonna knock 'em dead," he finally settled for. 

"You always do," Buddy said, soft words at odds with the way his hands dropped to his shoulders, giving him a vigorous shake, like he'd already skipped ahead to the victory celebration. 

 

"Hafta come up with a name after tonight," Buddy said. He was big-match pumped, bouncing around on the balls of his feet in the edges of Wesley's vision, his hair pulled into a knot that shifted with every move as he rolled his shoulders and smoothed the tape around his forearm and just made it awful hard not to want to touch him. "Crowds'll need something to chant."

"Something snappy to put on all their signs," Alexa agreed, deft fingers sliding through his hair.

"And outline in glitter-glue," Blake added, smiling at her reflection in the mirror behind him.

They'd all been talking together about the match: how to isolate and wear out Amore, how to avoid taking too much damage from Cassady, how to exploit Carmella's presence at ringside. It was easy chatter, the three of them fitting together like a solid team. One that was gonna hold onto their belts for a long damn time. Maybe even help Alexa take one of her own; better jewelry than any of them could buy, for sure. 

Alexa's hands were small and light, like the rest of her, and different in his hair than Buddy's had been, quick and efficient and business-like as she worked a second braid close against his scalp, securing it with a rubber band to leave the ends loose in the pigtails he'd gotten used to so quick. 

"Looking good, boys!" she pronounced.

"We are, huh?" Murphy said, coming across to stand next to her behind Blake's chair, tugging gently at the end of one pigtail. "That we are," he echoed softly. 

Alexa leaned down to peck his cheek, then went up on her toes to do the same with Buddy. "I'll see you out there," she said, shouldering her gear bag and making for the spot backstage where she'd wait out her moment to run in. "You two try not to mess up my handiwork too much in the meantime." 

She'd given them a wink and disappeared before Blake had worked out what that meant and how he ought to respond. He stayed just as speechless when Murphy raised one hand to smooth purposeful fingers over the plaiting in his hair and leaned down to whisper against his jaw. 

"That sounded like a challenge to me. What d'you say, mate? You game?"

Not just game, he thought as he tilted his face to meet Buddy's mouth and felt his fingers snag in the braid on one side, but already a winner.


End file.
